


Hunger

by Project_Icarus



Series: Become the Beast [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, POV Dante (Devil May Cry), POV Third Person Limited, Porn With Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project_Icarus/pseuds/Project_Icarus
Summary: A demon lord wants her for his bride, and her time is running out to find a way to stop him. He values her virginity above all else, so how about getting rid of it?





	1. Chapter 1

He haunts her at night when she’s sleeping. His great gnarled head is horned and grotesque, but he has the flesh of a man, and he uses her dreams to show her what he wants to do to her young, untouched body.

_I am Kimaris, _he whispers in her ear as his forked tongue tastes her throat. _Twenty legions of demons bow beneath me. You don’t know how lucky you are._

She wakes sweaty and panting, mind racing with images of herself being ravished by some dark, ancient being. His words ring in her head. _You’ll make such a beautiful bride of Hell._

Her heart pounds as she lies amongst the tangled sheets, catching her breath as dawn light fills the room. She squeezes her legs together against the throbbing between her thighs, betrayed by her own body. How can something so vile and malicious make her ache with such need?

Every morning she leaves her bed confused and full of self-loathing, and every morning she is more and more terrified. What is she going to do?

“Why me?” She asks him one night, heady with guilty lust at the ghost of his preternatural touch.

His fanged mouth splits into a grin. _You’re untainted. Never have you known the desires of the flesh. Until me._

“Oh.” She doesn’t have the strength to form more words, as he lures her higher and higher, almost at the peak—

The rubber band snaps, and she wakes up, a plan half-formed in her mind. To remove herself from his designs, she just needs to lose her virginity. Simple, right?

He drains his beer and thumps the bar for another one. He rolls his shoulders even though they don’t ache anymore and cracks his neck for good measure. Kicking demon ass will never get old, but being thanked once in a while? Might be nice.

“Not seen you around for ages, Dante. Where you been?” The barman plants a bottle in front of him.

“Missed me did you, Lewis? I had to go away for a while.” He swipes his thumb through the condensation on his beer and takes a drink.

“I’ll say. You back for good?”

“I’ll let you know. I haven’t decided yet.”

Lewis nods before being called away by another patron, leaving Dante alone with his thoughts.

He’s not sure what he expected from his homecoming, or why he thought things would differ from before, but he’s just underwhelmed by everything. To their credit, Lady and Trish were pleased to see him—for all of five minutes, before the three of them slipped back into old habits like they were something a little more comfortable. And of course, Vergil’s off being Vergil, but hell, even he has Nero now.

And him? The guy who’s saved this mortal plane more times than he can count? Alone, in some bar where the clientele gets younger every year and his pickup lines work less and less.

Christ, he’s on a downer tonight. Nights like this one are when he half-wishes he was back in Hell with his brother, both of them doing what they do best. He’s not sure of his place in the world anymore, with young blood cropping up everywhere to do his job for him. Not to mention he can’t even call himself the strongest of Sparda’s kin, a title he’s protected for so long.

He should just go home. For how empty and dusty the place is, the shop is his own space, and if he’s going to mope around anywhere, it should be there.

He’s about to chug his beer and get up, but that’s when she walks in.

A pretty little thing on unsteady feet in pointy heels and with shining innocent eyes, she’s like Bambi learning to walk in the big bad world.

He looks down at the bar, doesn’t want her to catch him staring, and smirks to himself as the click of her heels brings her ever closer. Tonight could look up after all.

She orders a drink and perches herself on a stool a few seats away, her legs shimmering in black gossamer stockings. Damn.

They both look up, their eyes meeting for a second. Her painted lips tremble into a coy smile and she glances away, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

She’s a looker, no doubt, and she must know it, but there’s a vulnerability about her that suggests she isn’t told so very often. It’s criminal.

No one else in this lively establishment has caught his eye, not for a long time, and it’s refreshing to let himself check her out. She’s a mesh of opposites; prim and proper with the cut of her little dress, but the red slash of her lips and her black-rimmed eyes betray something in her that hungers.

He recognises that same hunger in himself. A monster sits beneath his skin, gnawing at his bones and starving.

He counts to three before grabbing his beer and moving to the seat next to her. He hasn’t been with a woman once since coming back topside, that could be what’s wrong with him.

She tenses for a moment before sipping her drink and relaxing her shoulders, turning to him as he sits down beside her.

“I haven’t seen you here before. I’m Dante.” He offers his hand, and she takes it, her palm soft against his, her lacquered nails sharp and glinting as she withdraws.

She introduces herself and twirls her hair between her fingers, her cheeks tinged pink. Her owlish eyes blink and she looks up at him through her long lashes. “I don’t come here that often.”

“I’ll bet. I would have remembered you for sure,” he says, and smirks as she looks away, bashful.

“Flatterer.” The corner of her mouth tugs into an answering smile and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, before she loses her confidence and gulps down more of her drink.

She intrigues him. It’s like she’s fighting with herself over something, or like she knows the steps to the dance but she’s not sure yet if she wants to let him lead her. So, he backs off a little, gives her some room to breathe.

“I don’t do this a lot.” She laughs, breathy and nervous.

He takes pity on her. “Well, tonight must be my lucky night. What made you decide to take the plunge?”

She shrugs and catches him with a wry smile. “Oh, you know…” She blinks and then her eyes smoulder. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

He sucks in a breath. Damn. “Yeah, it’s been known to happen occasionally.”

“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t have been too surprised if you’d said no.” She watches him from the side of her eye as she brings her glass to her lips.

The compliment tickles him, and he grins, straightening his shoulders. Her drink is empty, and he signals to Lewis to get her a refill. Lady won’t like it—how can he even think about buying girls drinks when he owes her so much money?—but he puts it on his tab, anyway.

“Thank you.” The shyness of her smile is endearing. How she can have anything other than full self-confidence is baffling.

“You’re welcome.” He holds her gaze for as long as she lets him, before she giggles and looks down at her hands.

There’s something raw and sensual under the protective layer of her naivety, and a little more is peeking out between the seams, a tiny flame with the potential to only grow. Maybe she’ll open herself more to him if he plays his cards right, or maybe she’ll burn him to the ground for trying.

But hey, when has he ever been afraid of a little fire?

“So, Dante.” She pushes her hair behind her ear and leans an elbow on the counter, swivelling towards him a little more. “What do you do?”

“I’m a handyman.”

She nods. “You must be good with your hands.”

He catches the wicked gleam in her eye and the two share a laugh. He inches closer. “You could say that.”

“I can’t believe I just did. That was awful.”

“No, no, it was great. You’re doing great.” His face lights up as she returns his smile.

She hides behind her drink again, before setting it down. “Do you get a lot of damsels in distress that need things fixing?” She slides the pendant of her necklace between her fingers, drawing his eyes to her soft skin and the neckline of her dress.

But he’s a gentleman, and he meets her eyes again. Hopefully the heat there is because of him, not the liquor he’s feeding her. “I’ve rescued one or two damsels in my time.” He leans in, speaking softer now into her ear. “What about you? Do you need rescuing?”

She swallows. Bites her lip. Turns her face to his and the world around them stops mattering, it’s just her and him. She reaches out and places a hand on his wrist.

_“Yes,” _she whispers.

He wants to kiss her right here in front of everyone, but she wouldn’t allow it, so he catches her hand in his own instead. “Why don’t we finish our drinks and then I take you home?”

She clutches his hand tight and nods, her eyes steely. She downs her drink in a very impressive time and he follows suit, before standing and guiding her from her seat.

Lewis comes to clear away their glassware. “Nice of you to make sure she gets home safe, Dante.”

She hides her face with her hand, but she’s grinning. She straightens and rolls her eyes. “You’d tell me if I was about to go home with a complete jerk, right?”

“Absolutely.” He winks. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Phew.” She smiles, and Dante’s just warm and glad that she’s enjoying herself.

“Shall we?” He offers her his arm, and she links hers through it.

She looks up at him with her sweet eyes and once again he’s struck by her resemblance to Bambi. Would she find the nickname as cute as he does?

“Let’s go.” Her fingers twine through his and she squeezes his hand.

He squeezes back and leads her through the bar and out onto the street. It’s dark, and there’s not many people around, so he takes the chance and leans down to kiss her.

She pulls away in an instant. “Oh!”

Well, shit. “That’s not how that usually goes.”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting—”

Maybe he can roll with this. “Not a good surprise, then?”

“I just wasn’t ready. I—” She swallows her giggles. “I am now, though.”

He shrugs. “Nah, moment’s gone.”

“Hey!” She slaps the back of her hand across his chest, playful. “That’s not fair.”

“What are you going to do about it, princess?”

She struggles with herself for a moment, he can see it on her face, but it’s suddenly paramount that she makes this leap on her own. He waits for her, holding his breath. The street is all but empty.

She reaches up with both hands and circles her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level as she stands up on her toes to reach him, and seals her mouth over his.

Her lips are warm and firm, and he wraps her up in his arms and lets her kiss him, then takes the lead when she loses her nerve. She moans, a quiet, barely there sound that ignites his passion and he pulls her body flush against his.  
A car passes them and honks its horn, jarring them apart. He curses, sure she’ll be turned off and cold, but she laughs, grinning up at him with sparkling eyes. She’s beautiful like this.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders. “So, your place or mine?”

“Mine.” She leans into him and points down the street. “This way.”

If there’s a chill to the night air, he can’t feel it. He’s more alive than he’s felt in a long time, his insatiable hunger for once kept at bay.

If she’s Bambi, what does that make him?


	2. Chapter 2

Dante ducks into her apartment and stands aside as she locks the door behind them, leaving the keys dangling. The place is cluttered and lived-in, and he tries to imagine her bustling around in her own space.

“Oh, crap!” She looks up at him, her palms against his chest. “My bed’s covered in clothes, will you give me a minute?”

“Yeah, take your time. Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course, it’s through there.” She points the way before scurrying off into the other room.

He turns the bathroom light on and shuts the door behind him, stepping in front of the mirror. Lady had nagged him until he’d had a haircut and a shave, and he can see now it was a good move. He checks his teeth and sniffs himself just to be sure, but everything is a-ok.

It’s showtime. There’s a beautiful woman mere feet away, waiting for him to come and make love to her, and she’s wearing high-heels and stockings. He winks at his reflection. He steps back out into the hallway, thrumming with anticipation.

She comes to meet him, her hair messy like she’s been running her hands through it. It’s sexy but troubling.

“Hey.” He catches her by the shoulders and waits until she looks up at him, her bottom lip bitten raw. “Are you all right?”

Some of the franticness in her face fades, and she smiles. “You know what? I am.”

He brushes her hair back from her face. “Good.”

She takes him by the hand and leads him into the room behind her, which judging by the bed in the corner is where some serious magic is about to happen. A lamp on the desk bathes the room in mood lighting, and a chair at the foot of the bed is covered in discarded dresses and skirts, a lacy bra hanging off one side. He raises his eyebrows.

She follows his gaze. “Don’t look over there.” Her big Bambi eyes are sheepish.

“Okay then.” He shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over the chair, covering the mess. “How’s that?”

But she’s not looking at the heap of clothing anymore. Her eyes rake over him, taking in the broadness of his chest and shoulders, and he hooks his thumbs through his beltloops, letting her get used to the sight of him in her personal bubble.

She takes a step towards him, that clawing, empty hunger evident on her face, and he cups her cheek in his palm and draws her into a kiss. He tests her waters, his lips gentle and slow at first, and she trembles beneath him, kissing him back with girlish chastity. His hands slide over her form, anchoring her at the waist, and he dives into her, knowing she’ll follow him overboard.

The first tentative flicker of her tongue against his makes him groan. The sound makes her shy away, but he gives chase, a shark after blood, and she surrenders to him, leaning all of her weight against him and tangling her fingers in his hair.

They break apart for air, and she tilts her head, breathing hard. He kisses the column of her throat, her pulse thumping away beneath his teeth and tongue.

“Will you help me with my dress?” she says, voice breathy.

“Yeah, you got it.”

She turns around and pulls her hair out of the way, and his fingers find the back of her dress. He ducks his head and presses kisses to her neck as he undoes the zipper. The fabric parts like petals and slides down her bare arms, her skin warm under his touch.

She wriggles a bit and the dress pools on the floor around her ankles. He keeps his hands above her waist and closes his eyes, nosing her hair and breathing her in. She smells like something exotic and sweet, and it turns him on.

Her chest expands as she takes a deep breath, and she steps out of her dress, toeing off her shoes as she does so. She turns to face him again, several more inches shorter now, and looks down at her stocking feet.

It must be intimidating to be half-naked with a strange man who’s still fully clothed, so he pulls his shirt over his head to even the score. She looks up at him then, and a smile plays around the corners of her lips.

He unbuckles his belt, and she wets her lips, crossing her arms over herself and holding her elbows.

“Why don’t you get comfy, sweetheart?” He drops his belt to the floor where it lies in a coil like a snake.

She gets on the bed, then reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra. In a second, her breasts are free, and his mouth goes dry.

She raises her chin. “You said to get comfy.”

“Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He unzips his pants and kicks them off, climbing onto the bed with her and kissing her hard before she can turn timid once more.

She lies back, and he follows her with his kiss, and she melts for him, letting her legs fall open so he can settle between them. He wants to touch her everywhere, but not as much as he wants her to touch him. Her hands are fists at her sides, and he lifts one and places it around his shoulder.

This stirs something within her, and she clings to him like she’s lost at sea, her fingers in his hair and her satin-clad thighs smooth over his. She answers the urgent press of his kiss with her own eager tongue, and it drives him wild.

He rolls his hips into her, and she must be able to tell how hard he is already. She moans and arches into him, pressing her breasts against his chest. The feel of her is incredible under him, and he’s ablaze like the sky at dawn.

He backs off so he can look at her, and she hides her face with her hands, but it’s her body that makes his mouth water. He needs to taste.

He sucks one of her nipples into his mouth and soothes it with his tongue, squeezing the weight of her other breast in his hand, rubbing circles around the peak with his thumb.

“_Oh.” _She moans and her fingers card through his hair.

He sucks harder, his thumb and fingers pinching, and she presses her chest into his face and her fingernails scratch his scalp.

He releases her nipple from his fingers and trails his fingertips down her sternum, over her tummy, and lower, slipping his hand inside her panties. She’s slick and lilac-sweet, and he kisses his way up to her throat, laving the soft skin there with his tongue.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs into her ear. “Is that all for me?”

“Oh, god.” She hides behind her hand again, but her legs open wider.

He finds the slippery little bump of her clit with his fingers, and a bolt of lust strikes him as she shifts her hips into his hand, and he slides his fingertips in circles, winding her tighter and tighter.

He presses the hard line of his cock into her hip, and his fingers explore deeper, and he sinks one into the opening of her pussy. It’s only one finger, and she’s so snug, but she’s soaking wet and he sneaks a second finger in alongside the first.

She gasps, and he shushes her, kissing her forehead and her cheeks. He uses his thumb to tickle her clit, and she sighs, opening up enough for him to start a slow push-pull with his fingers inside of her.

He’s throbbing with need, but now’s not the time to be greedy. She needs a little more warming up before she’ll be ready for him. She pants and his tongue finds hers again, and she kisses him with such avid hunger that he forgets himself and just fucks her with his fingers.

She cries out, and he slows his movements.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shakes her head. “No, no I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

She opens her eyes to give him a look. “Yes, I’m sure. Actually—”

“Did it feel good?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

He laughs. “Sorry, princess. Only one more, I promise.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is gentle. “What is it?”

“Can I fuck you now?”

She shivers. “Yes.”

He kisses her again because it’s impossible not to, and then he tugs her panties down her legs and off. He wriggles out of his boxers as she reaches for her purse on the floor by the bed.

“Here.” She presses a wrapped condom into his palm.

He can be a boy scout for once, why not? He unwraps the condom and rolls it onto his cock, retaking his position between her thighs. He lines up and pushes his hips forwards, slowly, slowly, and she’s so tight he almost doesn’t fit.

Her whole body is rigid, and she’s holding her breath.

“Breathe.” He drops onto his elbows and kisses her neck. “You’ve got to breathe for me, baby.”

She lets out a shuddering breath and at last he’s able to sink in all the way. They both moan when he bottoms out, and she hikes her legs around his waist, her stockings soft against his skin.

He rolls his hips in a deep, lazy rhythm that makes his bones pine for her, but the last thing he wants to do now is hurt her by going too fast.

He’ll bet she doesn’t relax often enough, but if he can just make her come on his cock, maybe she’ll sleep well tonight and be less tense tomorrow.

She screws her eyes shut, and her brows are knit into a frown which only gets worse when he slows down, so he takes a chance and speeds up his thrusts—still gentle, but faster.

Her eyes fly open, and she moans, looking up at him like he’s shown her the keys to the universe. He grins down at her, slapping his hips into hers with a little more force, groaning at how narrow she is around him.

Lust pools in his belly and he squeezes his eyes shut against it. It’s been a long time since he’s been with anyone like this, but it’s still a shock to be this close to the edge so soon. He grits his teeth and powers on through it. She has to come before he can even think about it. He needs this to be good for her.

He backs off, sits his weight on his knees, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her into each pump of his hips. She clasps the pillow beneath her head and her tits are bouncy and perfect. God, he’s glad she walked into the bar tonight, and amazed she walked out with him.

He plants one hand beside her head, and with the other he rubs her clit, too hot to employ much finesse, but her mouth is agape and she’s moaning like it’s getting her off, so he keeps doing it.

“Oh, my god. Dante!” Her tight little hole cinches him so tight it almost hurts, and it’s incredible.

“Fuck.” He moves his hand faster, and groans. It’s like a race to the edge, one he’s desperate to lose.

She cries, and even through the condom he can feel her quivering around him as she comes.

“That’s it. Good girl, good girl.” He grinds his cock into her one more time before giving in to the pull of his desire and coming hard, emptying his load in a series of hot gushes.

He stills above her, and she looks up at him with the biggest grin on her face.

“That was… wow.”

Pride licks through him like flame. “I do what I can.” He pulls out and removes the condom, tying it off.

“You can just throw that in there.” She points to a waste-paper basket under her desk. “I’ll take care of it later.”

He does as he’s told, then finds his underwear and pulls them on. She tugs a blanket over herself and watches him as he gets dressed.

“I feel bad kicking you out into the night like this,” she says, sitting up in bed.

“Hey, don’t you worry about it. I don’t live too far away.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll bump into each other some time.”

She sighs and looks down at her lap. “Actually, I think it’s probably best if you don’t see me again.”

Uh oh. “Why? Your jealous husband’s not about to come bursting in, is he?”

She laughs with little humour. “You’re not too far off.”

“Yikes.” He lifts his coat from the chair and slides his arms through it. “Well, I can see myself out. I had a great time tonight, Bambi.”

She looks at him with such wide eyes it’s comical. She smiles. “So did I.”

He steps towards her and leans down for one last kiss. She meets him halfway and they share a lingering sweet farewell kiss. Now he’s ready to go.

He leaves her behind in the bedroom and lets himself out onto the street. He points himself toward his shop and sets off, whistling.

She sinks into a deep slumber, the smell of Dante still on her skin.

_So, the harlot returns. _His voice is like thunder, booming in her head.

“Kimaris?” She turns to the direction of his voice, but there is nothingness. “Do you know what I’ve done?”

_How could I not? The stink of him on you. Do you feel brave, little one? Do you feel clever?_

The void constricts around her and it’s hard to breathe. He lurks in the shadows behind her eyelids, there and gone in a blink.

“You don’t want me anymore, do you? Why don’t you leave me alone?”

A rumble, like the growling of a tiger, and then his great and terrible visage is before her, filling her field of view.

_No one will want you now. You are ruined. But I will not be slighted by one such as you._

She gasps for breath, her heart hammering out of control, blood pounding in her ears. Is she going to have a heart attack?

_Wait for me in your waking world, empty whore. I will bring pain and death upon you, and you will wish I had taken you for my bride._

She lurches awake, the bedsheets tangled around her throat. Things have gone horribly wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been a couple days since Dante’s little escapade with Bambi, and that’s enough time for him to start moping again, the painful ache of a once sated hunger rearing its head, appetite whetted.

He’d withstood Trish’s teasing when he’d cleaned the office up, and Lady’s snide remarks about men being simple creatures fell on deaf ears. Such was the change in him that it was obvious to them that he’d been laid.

He needs new friends.

Now though, his motivation is waning. Is he having a midlife crisis? Has the fact that his twin brother is a _father _really screwed him up this much, or is it something else? Is it time for the legendary Dante to settle down at last? No, no way.

He throws another dart at the board, missing the triple-twenty by a mile and scoring one point instead. Lucky he’s only playing against himself.

The shop doors creak open behind him and he tosses his last dart before turning around. “Finally, someone comes in. How can I—Bambi?”

It’s her, standing slack-jawed and framed by the doorway. “Dante?”

“In the flesh.” He can’t stop his face from splitting into a grin at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

She looks down at her tennis shoes. “Do you… work here?”

“Yeah. I own the place.”

She’s wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a no-frills ponytail and her face free of makeup. She looks younger for it, and scared—a lost girl who’s wandered into a lion’s den.

“I should have known.” Her eyes are weighted down by deep black bags. “Not too many Dantes around.”

“My mom was a creative type.” He steps around the pool table, leaning his hip against it and crossing his arms. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”

She inspects her fingernails rather than meeting his gaze. “I went to see a psychic this morning about a… problem I’m having. She told me to come here.”

Oh, Bambi, what have you gotten yourself into? He nods towards the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll get you a beer.”

“Okay.” She shuffles over and sits down.

He gets two beers from the fridge and uncaps them, stopping by the jukebox on his way back to her to choose some mood music. He sits next to her and hands her a bottle.

“Thank you.” She takes it from him, holding it in her hands and fiddling with the label.

“All right, you. Talk.” He leans back into the worn leather, giving her some space.

“It all started about a month ago. I began having these strange dreams.”

“How strange are we talking?”

“A demon lord named Kimaris appeared to me and told me he wanted me for his Hell bride, whatever that is.”

He nods. “Yep, that sounds strange, all right.”

“Of course, I thought they were just nightmares at first. Really weird, vivid nightmares. But it was every single night, for weeks, and he started getting a lot more… insistent.”

“Insistent?”

She blushes, her eyes fixed on the undrunk beer in her hands. “The dreams got kind of _graphic_.”

“Ah. Nice.”

She glares at him then. “It was not nice, it was disturbing. I thought I was going crazy.”

She’s sexy when she’s mad, but he holds a hand up in surrender. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You were saying?”

It takes a moment for her to answer. She glugs down half her beer first. “He’s coming for me, Dante. Soon. He says he’s almost got enough power to break through into our world.”

“Hey.” He leans towards her, grounding her with a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll take care of it.”

“How, exactly? Madame Fate wasn’t clear on what it is you actually do, she just told me to get here as soon as possible.”

“You saw Fate? What a hack! I hope you didn’t give her any money.” He has a longstanding agreement with a couple of the better-known mystics in town; if they think something truly supernatural is occurring, they’re to kick it his way rather than do anything to make it worse.

“She had a small consultation fee.” She sighs. “What are we going to do?”

“You are going to sit tight and try to calm down.” He drains his beer and stands, already itching for the fight. “When What’s-His-Face shows up looking for you, I’ll kill him. Sound good?”

She splutters, putting her bottle down and patting herself dry with her hand. “You’ll kill him? Just like that? How?”

“I think hitting him with my sword a few times should do the trick.” And he can’t resist making the Devil Sword Dante materialise in his hand, swinging it in a great arc around his wrist before making it vanish again. “But I won’t know until I try.”

She gapes at him, her brows pinched into the cutest look of consternation. “You’re a devil hunter!”

“Jackpot.” He just knew she was smart.

“I’ve heard rumours about you guys, after what happened in Red Grave. Were you there when Day of the Triffids went down?”

He shrugs. “I might’ve been.”

“No way.” She jumps up, coming towards him with fire in her eyes. “So, you’ll really do it? You’ll kill him?”

“Did I stutter?” He catches her eye. “I told you, just relax.”

Her face crumples in relief and she throws her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest. “Thank you! You don’t know how scared I’ve been.”

“Don’t mention it. Just buy me a pizza when this is all over.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and with his other hand strokes up and down her back. He’s no expert at this whole affection thing, but she makes it easy for him. Protecting people and killing devils is what he’s made for, and someone as cute as Bambi? Who wouldn’t want to keep her under their wing?

She laughs and pulls away. “Pizza? I can do that.” He smiles down at her and she looks away, shy, before steeling herself and meeting his eyes. She smirks. “Hey, Dante?”

This is going to be good. “Yeah?”

“You’re not really a handyman, are you?”

“No.”

The twinkle in her eye is diabolical. “So, I shouldn’t ask you about the cracks in my bedroom ceiling?”

He grins, wolfish. “No can do, princess. You’re staying right here.”

“Works for me.” She stands up on her tiptoes, tilting her head towards him and closing her eyes.

There’s something highly unprofessional about all this—but fuck it. He meets her halfway in a searing kiss. Her hands grab fistfuls of his shirt, and he holds her by the waist, kissing her hungry mouth until she grows bold enough to run her tongue over his bottom lip.

This new, more direct version of her turns him on, and he tugs her into him, their hips colliding and making her gasp into his mouth.

“Just one thing.” He holds her fast, not letting her pull away. “The whole jealous husband thing, you were talking about the demon, right?”

She laughs. “Yes, that was me being cryptic.”

“And so, if I were to take you upstairs and put the moves on you--?”

“That would be fine, yes.” Her eyes glow with mirth.

“Just let me close the shop.” He presses a quick kiss to her lips and releases her, striding over to lock the place’s double doors. “All done.”

She plays with the hem of her hoodie. “Sorry I’m not all glammed up this time.”

He’s on her in a blink, tapping into his demonic speed, and her eyes widen in shock but her pupils dilate in excitement. “You are the hottest little thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, low and right into her ear. “Whether you’re in sweats or a little black dress.”

“Flatterer,” she says, but she yields to his kiss all the same.

He can’t believe he says half the things he does, but the moment she shivers from his praise he knows he means it. He scoops her up like his very own Hell bride, and she hugs herself into his chest. He pities the devil bastard that tries to take her from him.

In a moment he’s laying her down on his fresh laundered sheets, his kiss unrelenting as he blankets her body with his own. He pushes her sweater up, and the t-shirt beneath it, and snakes his hand behind her back to snap her bra open with nimble fingers.

She sits up and pulls the layers off over her head, slipping out of her bra and dropping the clothing articles onto the floor. Words like _young _and _perky _flash through his mind, as well as _soft _and _defenceless, _and his chest roars with the fierce need to protect.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He crowds into her space, covering her from the world and finding her lips with his.

“I know.” Her timid fingers clutch at his shoulders when the kiss ends, and then she pushes his coat off his arms, and he shucks out of it.

She shoves his Henley up past his abs and he takes it off the rest of the way. Her hands on him send thrills across his skin, and when she wraps her arms around him and draws her blunt nails in lines down his back it makes him groan.

There’s a striking femininity in her, blooming under the moonlight of his touch, blossoming if only she could let herself go with it. If her heart is a flower, he wants to keep feeding it sugar so he can watch it grow powerful and strong.

He pops the button on her jeans, and she lifts her hips so he can pull them down her legs. No lacy panties this time, but something more functional-looking in cotton. He hooks his thumb into the gusset and pulls it aside, the delicate skin of her pussy peeking out and sending a shot of lust right into his bloodstream. Goddamn.

He rotates his hand and then slides two fingers straight into her, her slickness helping with the tight squeeze, and she moans, falling back against the pillows with a thump. She shifts, opening her legs wider, and he watches, fascinated as she swallows his fingers up again and again.

She pants, restless on the sheets. “I want…”

“What? Tell me and it’s yours.” Maybe if he stopped moving his hand, she’d be able to find her words, but fuck that. He gives it to her harder, grinning when she lets out a little high-pitched moan.

“I want to—” she tries again, but then he uses his other hand to tease her clit, and she sighs to the ceiling.

“I’m all ears, baby. You can tell me anything.”

She rolls her hips with his hands, losing herself to the feeling of it, moaning with every other breath. She’s beautiful and bad, and he doesn’t know a thing about her, but he knows how she feels inside when she comes.

“Fuck.” Her thighs close around his hand and her voice is cracked to pieces. Her chest heaves.

He withdraws his hand from her core and wipes his fingers on the sheets, before undoing his belt and pants, relieving some of the pressure where his cock is straining against the fabric.

“What was it you wanted, anyway?” he says with a smirk, raising a cocky eyebrow.

She bites her lip for a moment, before leaping upon him like a wildcat. She straddles him, pressing herself against him, the heat of her pressing down onto the aching length of him, and the softness of her breasts snug to his chest.

“I want your mouth.” She sinks into him, kissing him like she was born to do it, and rocks her hips into his, the both of them groaning. “And I want to touch you.”

He swallows, his hands tight on her hips, pulling her into him. “So touch me, princess.”

She sits back, her butt nestled against his dick, and observes him, her eyes thoughtful. It’s hard for him to look and not touch, but she’s on the verge of something here, and it’s exciting.

“All right. I can do that.” She dismounts him and glues herself to his side, her lips hot on his neck. Her palm comes to rest over his heart, before sliding across his skin, her touch tickling as it wends its way lower, along his abs, and lower still.

He holds her close, his fingers in her hair, and when her hand dives into his boxers and wraps around his cock he sighs in relief. She chuckles, a warm breathy sound in his ear that makes him shiver, and pulls his dick out, tugging and rubbing until he’s hard enough to cut glass. Her movements are gentle, measured, like she’s thinking carefully about things like pressure and speed. The inside of her mind must be an exhausting place—if only she could learn to relax. Then again, it’s a frightening thing to be hounded by the devil, for normal people.

“Your hand feels so good,” he murmurs into her hair, rocking his hips into her fist.

She hides her face in his neck, but grips him tighter.

“It really does.” He’s started now and it’s impossible to stop. “Almost as good as your pussy.”

Her breath is coming faster, and she moves her hand to match.

“I’ve thought about you a lot.” He closes his eyes, freefalling into the feel of it all. “The way you feel, the way you move—fuck, even the way you smell. I knew I had to see you again.”

“I think about you, too,” she whispers like it’s a secret. She’s really getting into it now, pumping him in a delicious rhythm, swiping her thumb over the head every few strokes to keep him on his toes. “I think about your hands, and your mouth, and your…”

“My cock?” He says the word so she doesn’t have to.

“Yes.”

He turns his head and kisses her, sucking on her tongue as he rolls them over until he’s above her, rutting his hips into her like he just can’t control himself. She moans, her arms around his neck and her legs splayed open for him.

He pushes his pants down just enough to be out of the way, and pulls the fabric of her panties aside, and then he’s lining himself up and sliding his cock inside her tight little cunt.

She clutches him with all her limbs, her head thrown back against the sheets. “God, yes.”

“You think about this?” He fucks into her as deep as he can go. “You think about taking my cock? Cause I’ve thought about giving it to you.”

She moans again, and when he pushes her legs further apart she holds them there with her hands clasped to the back of her knees.

“How do you want it, princess? You want me to be good to you? Be gentle?” He doesn’t let up, and on a harder thrust she wails. He grins down at her. “Or do you want it harder, baby?”

“Yes. Fuck.”

He lives to serve. He pounds into her, his hands fists on either side of her gorgeous head. Her cheeks are flushed hot red and her lips are slick with his spit. Her eyes are shut but her mouth is open wide, and she groans on every pump of his hips, sounds that are almost drowned out by the slap of his skin on hers.

“Open your eyes.” He could fuck her like this for the rest of his life and be happy, but the thought of her wide eyes on him makes him hot. “Look at me.”

Her lashes flutter, and then she’s looking right at him as he indulges her over and over with his cock. Bambi-ish no longer, her eyes are black pools of lust, shark-like and hungry, and he knows she must be seeing the exact same thing as she stares up into him.

She bites her lip, letting go of her legs and wrapping them around him, her fingers pinching in his hair. “Dante…”

He drops onto his elbows to be near her, and presses wet kisses into the side of her neck, the push of his hips unrelenting. “Yeah?”

“I need…”

He leans all his weight on one arm, his other hand winding between them. He yanks her panties out of the way and rubs frantic circles into her silky clit. She damn near squeals.

“This what you needed, baby?” He hopes so, because he’s going to fucking blow soon.

“Yes!” Her whole body tenses and she begins to quake.

He loses himself in the undulations of her orgasm, moaning with her as her pulsating pussy is going to make him come.

Shit.

He pulls out, groaning at the effort of it, and spurts his come all over her belly, white hot adrenaline coursing through him like a river. Close one.

He holds himself above her, breathing hard, no doubt with the stupidest look on his face. She smiles.

“That was intense.” She giggles. “We didn’t even get properly naked.”

“My fault. I just couldn’t wait.” He kisses her once, twice, three times before hoisting himself up to find her a towel or something. He hands her a clean washcloth from his bathroom. “Here you go, Bambi.”

“Thanks.” She takes it and wipes up the sticky mess he left on her tummy. “You know Bambi was a boy, right?”

“What?”

“In the movie. Bambi was a he.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You’re kidding.”

Sometime later, when she’s wrapped up in a warm jumper he says he never wears, her stomach full of the pizza they shared (his treat—he hasn’t done the job yet, after all), she drifts off into the first peaceful sleep she’s had in ages.

Peaceful. Dreamless, even. Why?

Her eyes snap open, and she bolts upright in bed, making Dante jump where he’s resting beside her, fully clothed atop the sheets.

“You okay? Bad dream?”

She shakes her head, terror squeezing her voice box. “Dante, he’s _here_.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dante doesn’t need to ask how she knows—he’s noticed it too. There’s a pressure in the air, like a thunderstorm with no rain, like the balance between worlds has shifted. There is one demon fewer in Hell.

“Listen to me, okay?” He grips her by the shoulders, holding her eyes hostage. “You’ve got to do as I say.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go downstairs right now and get under my desk. Do not come out. Got it? No matter what, don’t come out until I say. Can you do that for me?”

She bites her lip, looking down.

He shakes her. “Come on, this is important.”

“All right.” She meets his eyes then, hers full of fear and fire. “Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about me, babe.” He pulls her in and kisses her until she’s breathless. “Now, go.”

She jumps up and scurries over to the door, turning back at the last moment. “Fuck him up, Dante.”

He can’t help but laugh. “Oh, I am planning to.”

With a small smile, she disappears around the corner and thumps down the stairs into the shop. She’s a cutie, he’ll give her that, but now onto the task at hand.

He reaches out a little with the devil part of him that senses its own kind, closing his eyes and slowing his breathing, feeling out the surrounding area. There’s something out there, close by, hungry and vengeful and hunting, powerful and old.

He shakes his limbs out, loosening up, shifting his weight around and getting his blood pumping, anticipation zinging in his fingertips. Come out and play, you big bastard.

There’s a great gust of air and it makes his ears pop. A crack like a lightning bolt striking down, and his bedroom ceiling peels away in a cloud of dust, the roof of his shop lifted up and off like the lid on a pizza box.

He waves the dust out of his face, coughing. “Hey, ugly! Do you have any idea how expensive that’s going to be to fix?”

A hand the size of a bedsheet wraps around him and snatches him from the building. He grunts, struggling, the air squeezed from his lungs, his kicking feet dangling useless in the air.

“So, it is you.” The demon’s lips curl into a snarl, and his putrid breath ruffles Dante’s hair. “The defiler. I recognise your stench.”

“You’re one to talk, buddy.” Dante’s eyes water. “And who are you calling defiler?”

The demon lord Kimaris is a big boy all right, clinging to the outside of the shop like King Kong, with a leathery toad-like complexion and almost-human features. No wonder Bambi's beside herself.

“She was pure until you intervened.” He brings Dante up closer to his face, measuring him with his dinner plate eyes. “I should crush you like a bug!”

“You can try.” His brain catches up with his mouth. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Pure? The first night they’d been together, she was nervous as hell—scared, even. There were a million possible reasons, and he hadn’t pried, but…

Kimaris huffs out a steaming breath through his nostrils. “You do not even know the magnitude of your transgressions, do you? She was—”

“All right, enough!” He might ask her about it later or he might not, but as if he’ll take this asshole’s word for it. “Are we fighting or not?”

“Yes, that is how these things are done.” He releases his hold on Dante, who has to right himself in the air so he lands on his feet on the sidewalk instead of his ass. The devil points with one long, gnarled finger. “We will duel to the death. If I win, I will tear the little tramp limb from limb. But if you are the victor, you have laid claim to your bride of Hell and all the unholy fornication therein.”

“You demons sure know how to have a good time.” He draws his guns. “To be honest, you lost me after ‘to the death,’ but I think it’s time to put you out of your misery.”

“As you wish.” Kimaris hops to the ground, the impact vibrating through the asphalt and up into the soles of Dante’s boots.

The devil swipes with one of his huge paws, clawing only air as Dante leaps back.

Kimaris bares his fangs and drops to all fours, barrelling down the street, aiming straight for Dante, who rolls to the side at the last moment and fires his pistols at Kimaris’ exposed flank.

Enraged, the devil kicks out with his back legs, sending Dante flying into the asphalt, the breath knocked out of him with a whack like a tennis ball hitting the court, his twin guns skittering away into the dark.

“I let you have that one.” He wipes the dirt from his face and jumps back to his feet. He summons his sword, the weight of it powerful in his hand. “Let’s see how you like this.”

He closes the distance with a sprint and ducks out of the way of the devil’s swatting arm.

“You are irksome as a fly.” Kimaris contorts and bends his spine, dodging each swipe of Dante’s sword. “I don’t know what she sees in you.”

Dante laughs. “I’d tell you, but I think it’d make even your toes curl.”

As a reward for his mockery, Kimaris tackles him. The devil holds him down, all gnashing teeth and slobbering jowls, and the two struggle, both vying for the position of top dog.

He should stop playing around and just do his job, but there’s something about grappling with a monster that stirs a primal feeling within him. It’s in his nature to dominate.

Dante pops the devil with a couple jabs to the face, startling him enough for him to wiggle out from under him, and grab his sword from where it rests in the middle of the road, almost forgotten.

With both hands tight around the hilt, he slashes with his sword, great overhead swings that look more like anger management than fencing technique. Kimaris catches every one of them with his claws, deflecting the blows with nothing more than the shriek of scraping steel.

Dante bends over backwards to avoid getting sliced open and brings his sword up just in time to block those pointy talons from gouging straight into his face. Grunting, he shoves the demon away and puts some space between them, breathing hard.

Damn, he’s actually broken a sweat. He should wrap this up before it gets out of hand. He shifts his stance, readying for another attack.

Kimaris is ready for him, his mouth yawning open, a ball of pure fire forming itself within. He spits the fireball at Dante, growling when the devil hunter cartwheels out of the way.

“You didn’t tell me you were packing heat.” Dante scuffs his boots on the scorched sidewalk. “Not much firepower, though.”

Kimaris huffs smoke, the furnace in his chest heaving. “Stand and fight, coward!”

Now, that stings.

Dante shifts closer, dancing away from the fresh spray of fire spewing from the monster’s mouth, and with a grunt, he sinks his sword up to the hilt into the devil’s side, the squelch of blood like boots in the mud.

Kimaris screams, a piercing howl of pain that rends through the night air. Dogs bark and in the distance and a car alarm sounds.

“This was fun,” Dante says, forcing his sword in deeper, blood spraying in his face. “But I can’t afford to draw it out.”

The devil lies in the middle of the road, twitching, his eyes rolling around in his skull before focussing on Dante. “I… I’ll see you in Hell.”

“Not today, you won’t.” Dante unsheathes his sword from the devil’s ribs, and with one clean slice separates Kimaris’ head from his body.

The demon lord’s corpse bubbles away into nothing within a few short seconds, and soon only his stench remains.

Dante straps his sword to his back, turning to his poor, disfigured shop. The neon Devil May Cry sign is lopsided and blinking, and the thought of replacing it makes him groan. Maybe he’ll leave that one to Morrison.

He scoops up his guns where they lie in the gutter, then hops over a pile of rubble and with a spinning back kick the heavy doors to the shop swing open.

“Bambi?” He moves further in, the interior seeming unscathed. “Are you all right?”

“Dante?” Her big beautiful eyes peek out over the top of his desk. “Is it over?”

He bounds towards her like a great big Labrador, crouching beside her on the floor where she sits hugging her knees, her bare toes cold-looking. “It’s over, baby.” He grips her shoulder, and she’s trembling under his palm. “That bastard’s not going to hurt you. Or anyone.”

“Your face—you’re covered in blood.”

“Not mine, I promise.”

She blinks away tears and throws her arms around him, almost knocking him flat on his ass and clinging to him tight. “Thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

He hugs her to him, breathing in the smell of her hair. It takes more effort than he'll admit making the switch from the side of him that revels in such violence to the side that remembers to be gentle. Adrenaline thumps through him still, and he clutches her tighter, grounding himself in the lingering scent of her shampoo.

“Are you okay?” She rests her head on his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah, I'm fine. A little scratched up, maybe some road rash, but I heal fast.”

She pulls away, looking up at him with a frown. “What? That's not good.”

He cocks his head. “You going to play nursemaid now?”

She snorts. “Rather that than doctor-doctor.” She gets to her feet, the sweater of his that she's wearing covering her butt and not much else. “Where do you keep your first-aid kit?”

He rolls his eyes but points the way with his thumb, anyway. “Kitchen, under the sink.” He gets up and leans against his desk, watching her run into the other room. He'd much rather be taking her clothes off than sitting still under her unnecessary ministrations, so why is he?

She returns with the first-aid kit, and the most earnest look of determination on her face that he gets his answer. Oh, yeah. That's why.

She gasps and snatches up one of his hands in hers, the blood on his knuckles glinting in the dim light of the office. “That looks bad.”

“It’s not.” He wiggles his fingers to show her, slipping from her grasp to clench and unclench his fist. “See? It’s fine.”

“Let me clean you up at least.”

He’s about to tell her to forget it and let him jump in the shower, but he catches her lip trembling. She’s scared. He’s scaring her. He needs to allow her this.

“All right, nurse Bambi.” He seats himself on the desk in front of her. “Where do you want me? Here good?”

She nods. “Don’t move, I’ll get some warm water.”

He amuses himself for the few minutes she’s gone, shuffling his feet and tapping his fingers, unspent energy making him restless. He’s never been good at sitting still, the polar opposite of his brother who could sit alone in quiet contemplation for hours. How the hell did Nero come out so hot headed?

Before he can wallow in how the word ‘uncle’ makes him feel, she returns with a bowl of water and some towels thrown over her shoulder.

“Sorry to make you wait,” she says, sidling over and setting the bowl down beside him on the desk.

“Hey, I’d wait a hell of a lot longer for you.” He grins at the shy smile that draws from her. She’s so much fun.

“Take off your coat. And your shirt.” She sinks a washcloth into the bowl of warm water.

“Hell yeah.” He shakes his coat out, gravel clattering to the floor. He pulls his shirt off too, throwing it into a dark corner somewhere.

She rolls her eyes, looking him over with a clinical precision. “Huh.”

“What?”

“I thought you were just being macho, but you’re actually not hurt.”

“Told you so.”

She shrugs. “Give me your hand. Let’s get rid of some of the blood.”

He lets her do it, the intimacy of the hand-holding and her gentle movements not lost on him. The way she wipes away all the blood and grit is reverent, and at last both of his hands are clean, the swelling of his knuckles already lessened.

She rinses the cloth and wrings it out, stepping in between his parted legs and smiling as she grips his chin in her fingers. “Hold still.”

He closes his eyes. She cleans his face, just as gentle as before, pushing his hair back to pass the warm cloth over his forehead. There’s a cheeky comment right on the tip of his tongue, but just now his mind is blank.

The washcloth falls to the desk with a splat, but before he can open his eyes, she wraps her arms around his neck and she’s kissing him, deep and wet.

He curls his arms around her, kissing her back with brute force. The beast in his blood, at rest moments ago, roars to life, hungry.

She presses a hot kiss to the side of his neck, and despite himself, he pushes her away, holding her at arm’s length so he can see her face.

“Yeah, before we uh, get carried away, I wanted to ask you something.” He rubs soothing circles into her shoulders with his thumbs.

She bites her lip, frowning. “What is it?”

Time to jump in with both feet. “Were you a virgin when we met in that bar?”


	5. Chapter 5

A laugh barks out of her and a blush rides high on her cheeks. “What?”

“Were you?” he asks again.

“No. No, of course I wasn’t. Why would you ask me that?” She pulls away. “Was it that bad? Did I… do something wrong?”

His stomach plummets at her worried expression. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all.” He curses himself for saying anything. “It’s just something the demon said—but I shouldn’t have listened. Demons talk shit all the time, they’re well known for it. I’m sorry.”

She nods, but her eyes are droopy and sad. She crosses her arms. “So, what now?”

“Hey.” He reaches out for her, relieved beyond measure when she doesn’t shy away from his touch. He curves his palm around her cheek, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “I shouldn’t have asked, I’m a fucking idiot. You probably noticed that already.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up, and she sighs, eyes rolling. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“Oh?” He answers her smirk with one of his own. “Then you must be one, for sure.”

She narrows her eyes. “You know, I think I preferred it when we were kissing, not talking.”

“Then come here.” He opens his arms, and she steps back into them, letting them encircle her.

She tips her head up and kisses him, her arms around his waist hugging him tight. When he deepens the kiss and uses his tongue, she matches him without missing a beat, standing up on her tiptoes to be as close to him as possible, and just like that, his need for her is once again unquenchable.

He toys with the hem of her jumper, tugging it upwards, when she shoves his hands away, laughing.

“The front doors are wide open.”

He groans, unwilling to part from her for even a moment, kissing her neck when she turns her face away from him.

“Dante!” She swats him in the arm.

“Fine, fine.” He drags himself from her embrace, dashing over to heave the shop doors shut. He turns back to his prize, intending to stake his claim if she’ll let him, when he’s brought up short.

She’s sitting on his desk, and he’d turned just in time to see her cross her arms and pull her sweater up over her head. She drops it on the floor and he follows it with his eyes, where it comes to rest next to her already discarded panties.

She’s beautiful, biting her lip to cover nervous giggles, her eyes gleaming with promise, and he’s overcome with such a possessive lust for her that he can do nothing but stand and stare. She leans back on her hands and parts her legs just a little, enough to make his mouth dry and his pants tight.

He advances, drawn to her in thrall, a moth about to burn its heart out to be near the flickering flame of its desire, his boots thumping a purposeful rhythm into the wooden floor. He unbuckles his belt, snatching it through the loops and slinging it to the ground.

She blinks, surprised at the change in his demeanour, before a smile spreads out across her face. She tosses her hair, preening under his gaze, and beckons him closer with a crooked finger.

He kicks off his boots in his haste to be with her, his vision tunnelling to include nothing but her and the desk she lounges upon.

He’s felt nothing like this before, and it occurs to him that maybe it isn’t natural, but as soon as he grasps the thought it flits away again, lost in a foggy corner of his mind.

He unzips his pants, right before her now, her chest heaving as she watches him with hooded eyes. He shoves her thighs apart and stands between them, wrapping the fingers of one hand around her skull and turning her face to put her mouth on his. With her distracted, he flips his mother’s portrait so it’s face down. She doesn’t need to see this.

Bambi wraps her legs around his waist, tugging him against her centre, kissing him like she wants to fuck, and it makes him ache with want deep in his belly, but something’s wrong. Her eyes are a little too dark, and her kisses full of teeth.

She pushes his pants down, his boxers too, and then she’s gripping his dick in her hand, all traces of the shy creature she’d been gone into the aether, and his unease with it. She squeezes him, tugs him a little, but her hand is too dry for a smooth glide. She unglues her lips from his, flashing him a wicked grin, and brings her hand to her mouth, licking a wet stripe along her palm and then returning it to the head of his cock.

“Fuck.” He sucks on the inside of his cheek, thrusting his hips into her fist until the slickness of her palm fades again.

She’s given him a great idea, one that seeds itself in his brain and now he just has to bring it to fruition. He forces her hand away, sinks to his knees on the dusty shop floor, and buries his face between her thighs.

“Oh, god.” She shifts, resting on her elbows, and opens her legs wider for him.

He moans into her cunt, the taste of her incredible on his tongue, and when her legs shake from the strain of holding them open, he holds them for her, taking the weight with ease. She’s like the sweetest, juiciest forbidden fruit in all existence, and he’ll be damned if he can resist her.

He licks her clit with single minded determination, an unwavering, unrelenting back-and-forth, flicking his tongue over the little bump that makes her squeal so.

She pushes his hair off his face, her fingers tangling in the strands and holding him in place. He opens his eyes, finding hers coal-black and her lip red from biting, and when he presses harder with his tongue, continuing his incessant attention, she throws her head back and wails to the ceiling.

Her other hand grabs a fistful of his hair too, and he lets his eyes fall closed as he finishes working her up to completion, sucking her clit hard until it slips from his lips with a pop. He goes right back to licking, his work not yet done, and her clutching fingernails scrape his scalp, almost tearing his hair out. It stings in such a sweet, surprising way that it makes him whine in the back of his throat.

“I’m so close, Dante.” She moans, her legs shaking again in his grip.

He guides one of her legs over his shoulder to free up his hand, and sticks two fingers straight into her pussy, reaching inside of her to find that spot that’ll make her come. She trembles around his fingers, squeezing them so tight he’s surprised she hasn’t cut off his blood flow. There it is.

She moans, her hips moving unbidden, riding his hand, faster and faster over the peak, before slowing to a satisfied stop, panting.

He shakes free of her grasp, standing and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He can smell blood. There, in the corner of her mouth. She’s torn the skin of her bottom lip with her teeth and made it bleed, failing to lick it all up.

It’s not something he’s ever wanted to do before, but he does now, more than anything. As if bewitched, he tugs her in for a kiss, his tongue swiping over her lip, the coppery tang of her blood even more gratifying than her peachy sweet cunt.

He finds the swollen, bitten-raw patch of flesh and digs his tongue in, poking and prodding until he’s rewarded with more jewel-like drops of blood, moaning at the taste. Why is he doing this? Why is she letting him? Why is it getting both of them off?

She hooks her legs around his middle, and her fingernails scratch lines down his back, egging him on, but his pain isn’t from her claws—it’s from having to exist in this moment where he’s not inside her.

He wrests himself the rest of the way out of his pants, the weight of the leather against his skin altogether too constricting, and now, no longer confined, there’s only one thing left to do. He needs to feel her from the inside.

With a hand tight around her ponytail, he tugs her mouth away from his so he can look down between them and watch himself as he feeds his engorged cock into her.

Fuck, it’s never been like this for him before. She makes him feel like he’s been dead for so many years and it’s only just now that he’s alive. She moans, her heels digging into his ass, and he’s brought back to the present; with his hips flush against hers and the blood roaring in his ears drowning out all other flowery thought.

He pushes her to lie back with loose fingers around her throat, and when she goes without resisting, he applies the gentlest of squeezes—as a reward or a warning. He fucks her like this, slamming her as hard as he can without tearing her apart, and she gasps at the force of him, her eyes screwed shut and her brows knit.

Her tits bounce away with the power of his thrusts, and he paws at them, palming them both in his hands and squeezing, using the heel of his palm to rub her nipples. He fucking loves her body. He loves the way it makes him feel. She’s so tight and hot and wet, and he pumps his hips faster, groaning, sweat shining on his skin.

He needs more purchase, needs to be deeper inside her body, so he releases her tits and plants his hands on the desk, leaning his weight on them. How much of him could she take? He can go much faster than this, and so much harder. This is nothing. How much would she be able to handle before he broke her in two?

She opens her mouth, moaning on a strong thrust straight into her g-spot, and his eyes zero in on the pink slickness of her tongue. He covers her face with his hand, his thumb pushing past her teeth, and she wraps her lips around it, sucking. Her tongue flickers over the pad, and it drives him mad with desire.

All he wants to do now is fill her up with his come. He wants her to be bursting at the seams with it. An image burns in his mind, taunting him, of her with a swollen pregnant belly, carrying his child, and he scrunches his eyes shut against it, clenching his teeth. Where is this coming from?

He takes his hand from her mouth to lean all his weight on the desk again, getting lost in the winding coil of pleasure in his gut.

“Do it, Dante.”

His eyes snap open, meeting hers. His mouth hangs slack, struck dumb by her piercing gaze.

“Make me so no one will ever want me again.”

He frowns. How could she know what he’d been thinking? But his mouth has a mind of its own. “You’re mine. All mine. You got that?”

“Yes.” She smiles up at him. “I’m yours.”

The words do something to him. Like magic, he’s right on the edge, a second away from coming, and he doesn’t know what to do about it, but her face contorts in pleasure and he knows she’s right there with him.

His hands fly to her waist, pulling her onto his cock and holding her there, grunting as he empties his load inside her. She takes everything from him, his heart and soul, his blood, his sweat, and his tears.

Her legs tighten their grip around him, squeezing the air from his lungs, and she curls her hands around his forearms, her nails digging deep and leaving little crescent-shaped indents behind. She convulses around him, coming, milking him for all he’s worth, her eyes rolling almost all the way back into her head, showing the whites.

He holds himself still, breathing hard, sweat pouring off him as he comes back down.

She blinks, and her eyes are bright as ever, their sinister blackness faded.

He swallows. What just happened? He’s still white-knuckle gripping her waist, and he lets up at once, wincing at the light purple finger marks left behind. In a few hours, they’ll have blossomed into deep dark violets.

He pulls out with a squish, his come flooding out after him, and he knows there’s something wrong but he’s just too boneless and satiated to care to put the dots together.

“Oh, my god.” She sits up, movements ginger. “You’re unbelievable.”

He turns to her, afraid he’s upset her, but thank god she’s smiling. He’d never forgive himself for hurting her. “Are you okay?”

“I am. Fucking sore, though.” Her impish grin turns rueful.

He heaves a huge sigh. It’s now or never, Bambi. “You have anything you want to tell me?”

She looks down at her lap and nods. “So, uh, I lied to you before. I was a virgin when we met.” She catches his eye, contrite. “I’m really sorry, Dante. You just caught me off guard—and I was embarrassed… but I should have told you sooner. You had a right to know.”

He rolls his head back, glaring at the ceiling, his hands resting on his hips. Who needs a woman when his life fucks him every day?

Now, he’s not an expert on the inner workings of demonic mating rituals, but he’s pretty sure that what they just did could be considered ‘unholy fornication,’ and coupled with the impromptu ownership vows… and if he’s the only person she’s ever been intimate with…

“Say something. Please. You’re freaking me out.”

He wants to scream. Swallows it down instead and forces a smile. “Hey, it’s okay. I understand.” And he does, of course he does. He’s not a monster, or an idiot, despite what he might have said earlier.

“Really?” She still looks like she might cry, and he can’t have that.

He softens his face for her further. “Really. I mean it. Come here.”

She hops off the desk, cringing only a little, and steps into his arms, laying her head on his chest.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, staring off into the middle distance and seeing nothing, his mouth spinning platitudes on autopilot. “You’ve been through a lot. You weren’t thinking clearly, and you must have had your reasons.”

Of all the stupid things he’s done in his life, getting himself his very own hell bride has got to be the stupidest.

There’s so much she wants to tell him. So much she needs to say, but where to even begin? She’s done wrong, but how is she supposed to fix it? It’ll be easier when she has a clear head and her legs have stopped wobbling.

If she’d ever had any idea that sex could be like this, she’d have done it a long time ago. She didn’t know it was possible to be so swept away by sensation, to be in her body but not in control, without imbibing some sort of illicit substance.

He unravels from her and steps away, bending down to grab his coat where it lies in a heap on the floor. He shakes it out and wraps it around her shoulders, gazing down at her with a wistful look in his eyes.

“You should go upstairs and get dressed,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I need to call someone about the roof. I can’t believe no one’s called the cops yet. This fucking neighbourhood, I swear.”

She nods and does as she’s told, hurrying up the stairs and marvelling at the absence of a ceiling as she gets changed. When she returns to the shop floor, Dante’s clothed too, sitting at his desk with his boots planted by the telephone.

“I guess I’ll go, then.” She hands him his coat, and he stands to put it on. “You must have a lot to sort out.”

“Yeah. Do you want me to walk you home?”

There’s an uneasiness in her stomach. A lump forming in her throat that she has to force down. “No, that’s okay. It’s really not far.”

He claps a hand on her shoulder, a tight-lipped smile crooking the corner of his mouth. “Look after yourself, all right?”

Why does this feel so much like she’s being kicked to the curb? He came inside her a few minutes ago and now he can’t wait to get rid of her. She can’t keep her face from falling. She shoves her hands in her pockets and looks down at her shoes.

But then he’s turning her into him again and tilting her face up and kissing her, sweet and soft, on the lips. She clutches the lapels of his coat, her girlish heart sighing in relief.

He pulls away and kisses her hair, running his fingers through her ponytail. “Get on home, Bambi.” The smile on his face is more genuine now. “Give me a call in a couple days. You still owe me a pizza.”

She grins, standing up on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. She leaves the shop, stepping out onto the street just in time to see the first hints of the sunrise streaking across the horizon.

What a weird week it’s been.


End file.
